you've kept some fire aside to set light to me
by definexfreedom
Summary: Pokeverse AU. Quinn Fabray is a high-ranked member of Team Aqua, currently at the forefront of a violent bid for power that could shatter everything the world has ever known. And Team Magma's own Santana Lopez will not slow her down. Not even a little.


**A/N: **Just a couple things about this fic: one, it doesn't follow the exact structure of Team Magma/Aqua that we are presented to in the game/show - I took the idea of the organizations and them sort of adjusted the internal structure. Same goals, but I invented the ranks and the level of discipline. And two, it's been forever since I've posted anything on FFN, so I apolgoize for any formatting errors or errors in general. On that note, thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy! :) Hopefully I'll have part two up for you very soon.

* * *

"This is it. This is the moment. Tomorrow, we will seize the hand of fate and forever change the existence of this world." His hands are moving restlessly at his sides, his voice rising—feverish and controlled all at once. "Are you prepared? Our time is _now_. Tomorrow, the sea will rise and the Pokémon of the water will celebrate our triumph. Tomorrow, we will become the most powerful team to ever live."

They are well-trained enough to remain in perfect order, to maintain posture, but their Captain can see the desired effect of his speech in their eyes—wide and bright with passion. He can see it in the way they shift their weight, just a little, proving both impatience and restraint. He knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they are prepared for this moment.

Some, he thinks, glancing to each face in turn, have been training for this since the day they were born. Others have escaped from their homes and chosen this path voluntarily. Today, none of it matters. Today, they are Team Aqua.

"Tomorrow, we will not simply make our mark upon the perilous pathway of history. Tomorrow we will raise the tides and sweep the path away altogether. Tomorrowe, we will create a new _kind_ of history. So let me ask you again," he says, his voice dangerously low, but he knows they can hear every word. There is no noise; there is no movement. There is nothing but him, and his words, and the future. "Are you ready to show the world that you are Team Aqua?"

There is a loud, immediate cry—but they speak in unison. They speak with the mouths of the thousands who have come before them and the thousands who will follow. They speak with the mouths of conquerors. "We are ready," they intone.

"Who are you?" he cries out to them, demanding everything: every piece of them, every moment and every thought and every breath. "Who are you?"

"Team Aqua," they cry, and he believes them.

!

**two months earlier**

"I am here to speak to the Captain," she tells the guard—he is new, from the looks of it, and his eyes slide everywhere, nervously.

"And—uh, who should I tell them is—is calling, Miss—"

She raises one careful eyebrow. He cowers. "Admiral Quinn Fabray."

"Oh," he says, breathlessly, trembling, when he finally recovers his powers of speech. "Oh, oh, of course, I'll just—I'll just—"

Quinn rolls her eyes but maintains the aloofness of a true Fabray. "Are you certain you're qualified for pushing buttons? Because I'm sure I could recommend someone more…fitting for the position."

"Come inside," he says, hastily, and finally the doors open. _That was only a fifteen minute detour,_ she thinks, but standing before the Captain very quickly makes all of that irrelevant. He's watching her closely, and for a moment she thinks she sees something like worry, at the corners of his eyes.

"You asked to see me," she says, and he nods his assent.

"I have a task for you. Normally I would give someone else the honor, of course—someone more…dispensable, but I need to be certain of this mission. And of my admirals, I trust you to be the most—tactful about this particular delivery. This maneuver must be extraordinarily careful."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I have a message for you to relay to Team Magma. Nothing—fancy, no infiltration—frankly, I fully intend for you to tell them exactly who you are. Which will of course first require entrance to the first door or so, but I'll take care of that." He looks at her carefully, up and down, and meets her gaze for several long moments. "This must be delivered directly to Maxie. No exceptions."

"Of course."

"They won't be happy about that," he says wryly, shaking his head. "Which means you have to provide them with something—interesting enough to keep their attention. I'd prefer you keep the battling to a minimum—eliminate it altogether, if possible, but I realize some of the Magma rookies can be a bit touchy. No more than one or two Pokémon, though. I'll trust your judgment, there, but I don't need you coming there concealing a team—make sure to take enough berries to last you, but only those. No potions. This must be—deliberate."

"When do you want the message delivered?"

"Tomorrow night," he says. "It may not give you any time to prepare, but you and I both know you've worked with less. And if it all goes according to plan, there shouldn't be much to prepare for." He's looking at her like the plan is ten times as likely to sustain a few cracks.

But that's why she's here. If it shatters at her feet, she won't be an idiot.

"I'm ready," she says, but he already knows.

!

Quinn secures the two Pokéballs to her belt—Poseidon and Hyperion —and examines the berries in her hand. They aren't much—enough for a bit of healing, against poison and damage and paralysis, mostly, but not much more. But the truth is she's never needed much more—and even the handful of berries seems more a precaution than a necessity.

There's really no surprise in her selection as messenger; the Fabray family name has been a source of Team Aqua pride for generations. They have always supported their team financially, of course, but more importantly they have provided incomparable talent. They have always been better.

She grew up in a family where superiority was not only expected but mandated. And so Quinn Fabray rose risen magnificently to the task. She was selected for her position at a remarkably young age—making her one of the youngest Admirals in Team Aqua's history—and with good reason. Graduation from the Pokémon Academy found her at the top of her class—but her high academic standing had not kept her from ruling the school with an iron first and an impeccably delivered raise of an eyebrow—not to mention Poseidon, the once-Totodile she had received on her twelfth birthday, as a present for her upcoming entrance into the Academy.

Not once did she falter. There would be no cracks in the Fabray name on her account.

She glances back at the Pokéballs, tracing a finger over the surface: Feraligatr and Poliwrath. Hers to command. It was a simple enough choice: Team Magma was achingly predictable, which meant fire, ground, and dark were likely to make up her primarily opponents. It was almost funny, really; even their favored type was naturally weak against Team Aqua's type of choice, as if nature itself had already proven the inevitable. As if nature truly was at the behest of Team Aqua.

But her team had never been destined for anything but triumph. After all, the Fabrays would never find themselves on the losing side.

Quinn carefully places the berries within the pocket of her coat. Tonight, she will walk into Team Magma headquarters, unarmed and undisguised, planning for peace but prepared for war.

The message is simple. She falls asleep whispering the words aloud, knowing they could change everything. Just a few words, again and again, into the night.

(When she dreams, she dreams of a girl riding in on a Charizard, smirking like there's no one alive who can stop her, smirking with lips that burn everywhere they touch and hands that skim too high and too low and too much. When she wakes, she will choke desperately on her own terror. On the sharp uncertainty that buries itself in her chest.

For now, she dreams.)


End file.
